The Forgotten Ones
by Sullori
Summary: When a group of adventurers travel to the High Forest in search of treasure, they find much more than riches. The are soon ensnared in a war of politics, deceit, betrayal and unlikely alliances and outcomes.


On the borders of a dark forest, an elf sat with her back against an oak tree. She whistled through her teeth and whittled a small branch she had found. It was beginning to show the vague shape of a falcon in flight. As she thought of such freedom in the air, the thick black-feathered wings protruding from her back began to ache. She ruffled them impulsively, but her eyes drifted to the night sky. The leaves above her head rustled as a cold breeze wafted through the valley. The nearby, snow-capped mountains made the air chill, the elf knew.

The elf paused to reflect on why she had come here. Saruk had passed beyond her reach. She was not expected to finish the task that the priestesses had set for those she guarded. Yet here she was, following the trail that the group had found, all for a ridiculous feather. Was such a miniscule, insignificant thing worth the loss of so many lives? Her thoughts were cut short however, as she heard those that she expected approaching.

From the valley connecting to the forest, two shadowy figures drew near. Both carried heavily laden packs, and were armed to the teeth. As they came closer, it became apparent that the duo comprised of a man and a woman. However, they acted nothing like lovers, or kindred. In fact, they barely knew one another, and regarded each other as suspiciously as they did the mysterious forest. Both had thick, light brown hair and large brown eyes, and were otherwise quite ordinary, with tanned, unblemished skin.

As they drew near to the elf, she looked up and fixed her steely gaze upon the both of them. The female human was taken aback with envy. The elf's pearly skin reflected the moonlight, and her soft gray eyes fixed upon the pair with a mix of welcome and avid interest, brought out by the black tresses of her hair. This was the first night that they had met, though the three had exchanged numerous letters in planning. The elf stood, stretching her and sheathing her dagger, then leaned down to pick up her pack. She stepped out into the moonlight and inclined her head, gesturing for them to enter the forest silently. As the two humans hoisted their packs more comfortably upon their shoulders, the elf spread her wings and silently took flight, hovering just above the tops of the trees. The woman groaned and hurried to keep up, as the male merely watched with wide eyes.

Upon arriving at a small clearing, the two humans saw that the elf had already set up a small camp. Shrugging off the heavy packs, they immediately settled by the fire and reached for the food laid out before them. The avariel lit upon a small stump and watched the two intently. Her thick black hair fell into her face and she irritably brushed it away as the humans regarded her uneasily. The male noticed a curling scar upon her right cheek, which looked almost like a magic rune, and pondered its meaning. As they polished off their rations, the elf grinned and jumped down from the stump, spreading her wings to ease her fall, and approached them once more, kneeling in front of them.

The female slowly placed her bowl in front of her and looked at the avariel questioningly. However, she merely beamed in response and waited for the male to finish. When he complied, she smiled and began to speak, her deep, soothing voice calming the pair immediately. "My name is Sullori - or Sulli, if you wish. I shall be your companion." Sullori waited for the two to introduce themselves, but they seemed too shocked to say anything. Shrugging, she motioned for the male to speak. He opened his mouth, though no words came out, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He cleared his throat and responded, in a rich, velvety voice.

"I am called Trint, and my companion is Rengin." Rengin nodded in accordance and Trint continued. "It is our pleasure to meet you, Lady Sullori." Rengin merely grunted and asked when they were to be on their way.

Sullori grinned and laid down, her head resting on her pack. "We will be staying here for the night, as I flew all day to get here and, upon my arrival, I found a magically generated shield over the forest. It sapped much of my strength to dispel it." Sullori closed her smoky eyes and sighed contently. After she ceased to speak for several minutes, the two looked at each other. Rengin shrugged, standing and grasping her pack in one hand, dragging it over to the shadows outside the ring of light the fire provided. Trint chuckled softly and fell back onto the ground, crossing his arms behind his head and humming a soft tune for a few minutes before he drifted off to sleep, his hand gripping the short sword at his side.

--- --- --- --- ---

Quidyn growled in anger as the blade slapped painfully against her thigh. Her jaw hurt from where she'd been grinding her teeth, and she threw down the dagger and kukri she had in her grasp, kicking up dirt and turning about in a huff. The young man behind her also dropped his weapons, burying her in a tight embrace from behind. They both erupted into laughter and fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. After a few moment, Quidyn stood and dusted herself off, offering a hand to her instructor. He grasped her hand in a powerful grip and hoisted himself up gracefully.

"You cheated, Quinn," he began slowly, grinning. "Yet I still won."

Quidyn glared at him and bent to pick up her discarded weapons, her dark brown locks falling in front of her face to cover a growing smile. She had cheated, though she had hoped that Filst wouldn't have noticed. She straightened, locked her bright green gaze firmly upon her teacher and friend, and cocked an eyebrow. "Did I?" she replied innocently, sheathing her weapons as she turned to go back to the village. Looking over her shoulder, she winked and sprinted off. Filst laughed merrily and darted after her, his weapons left forgotten in the dust.

The two quickly reached the village, walking together in companionable silence after Filst had easily caught the young woman. The bustle of the quiet community was lost over the squeals of children playing in the streets, while their mothers rushed about in an attempt to round them up for supper. The pair approached a minute, ordinary hut, consisting of a thatched roof and a small amount of windows. A middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, obviously highly irritated at their late arrival. A light blush crept onto Quidyn's cheeks, and she motioned for Filst to stay put as she approached her mother. "Forgive me, Mother, for being so late," she began softly, lowering her head in respect. "I lost - "

The woman smacked Quinn on the side of her head with the back of her hand - proving she was swifter than she let on - and quickly placed them back on her hips, scowling fiercely. Filst, several yards away, winced and remained where he was. Quinn's mother was a fierce woman, and he knew that to get involved would invoke her wrath - something he knew his friend would not want placed upon him. Quinn flinched back from her mother and straightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Without responding, she brushed past the short woman and entered the house. Nagging followed her all the way to the trunk at the foot of her bed, where she knelt and pulled out a thick, forest green cloak. Quidyn turned to face her mother. "I will be back," she spat, tossing the cloak about her shoulder and exiting the hut heatedly.

--- --- --- --- ---

Arden quickly sheathed his dagger and followed the diminutive rabbit silently. His lips were twisted into a feral snarl, and his brow was deeply furrowed. It had been almost two days since he had last eaten, and, although he had no fire on which to cook his meal, he was determined to slave his hunger.

His footsteps were muffled by the thick coating of damp leaves on the surrounding forest floor. A small spell of rain had passed through only minutes before, leaving the air crisp and sharp with a bouquet of a variety of scents. His hair and robes were matted to his skin, and he shivered unconsciously as he looked about. Every part of the forest seemed more intense, as well, though the sun shown through the canopy of trees feebly. Arden paused, cocking his head slightly to the side as he locked his gaze on the rabbit. A small smirk crossed his lips and he reached inside his burgundy robes, the material whispering as the wind rustled it. The mage's fingers were dusted with a pale yellow powder when he withdrew them, and his lips moved wordlessly. There was a bright flash of brilliant gold and when the spots in front of Arden's eyes cleared, the rabbit lay on its side. The fire had singed the fur on its right side.

Arden rose from his vulnerable kneeling position and dusted off his robes, then stalked over to the mammal, reaching down to scoop it up, and cradled it in his arms. After ambling through the thick vegetation for a few yards, he came to a small clearing, resting beneath a copious oak as he skinned the rabbit and hummed to himself. His blade, though rough and none too elegant, was deadly sharp, and bit deep into the animal's flesh as he cut out small pieces of meat. The blast of fire had roasted most of the rabbit, only that which was deep in the middle remaining raw. The mutton was tender and succulent, and it promptly calmed the raving hunger that had been spreading through Arden's essence, giving him a chance to finally sort through all he had seen.

The human had been traveling for several days, having been sent by his city's elder to discern the Hawnu' latest activities. Upon skirting the fringes of their enemies' encampment, Arden was startled to discover that they had, somehow, gathered even more forces than the Auroni had anticipated. He had quickly withdrawn, coming away with knowledge both valuable and unexpected, and that which he knew would throw his city into complete disarray. Even from here, he could see with his experienced eye that he was coming upon Evani, the city of his birth. A well-traveled, yet hard to follow trail could be seen snaking through the dense foliage. Even a well-versed ranger would be sore put to even find the path, let alone follow it to its end. Sighing, Arden rose and tossed the remains of his meal into the forest, content with the knowledge that his waste would feed another. His lithe fingers brushed back damp strands of his coal black hair, which continued to hang in front of his cerulean eyes. Arden set his jaw and pushed through a thick copse of underbrush and followed the familiar path to his home. He unconsciously hummed a soft tune as he walked, pouring over his thoughts.

The Hawnu had gathered well over a hundred more warriors, seemingly from out of nowhere. Of course, most of them were young men, who had no experience in the real fury of battle. However, even Arden, stubborn as he was, could admit that the Hawnu were skilled fighters, and that they raised their young in a disciplined and efficient way. The children were drilled in sword craft from an early age, fighting their instructors, peers, even their parents. They were expected to attend lessons every morning and evening, where they were assigned mentors that would train them throughout their lives. And they were not unintelligent. They attended classes daily, in between drills, where they learned reading, writing, fighting styles, and battle schemes. The combination of quick thinking, deadly efficiency, and stealth made the Hawnu an intimidating foe. However, the Auroni were not without their threat either. Skilled mages and clever elders made the community strong, and one that Arden was immensely proud of.

A sharp pain coursed up the mage's leg and he winced, reaching down to rub his knee. Looking about, he spied a large boulder and quickly limped over to it, easing himself down as his breath hissed through his teeth. His eyes were squeezed shut and he gently massaged his leg, his jaw clenched firmly. After a few moments, he gingerly rose to his feet, gradually placing weight on his right leg. Shrugging, he continued on with a barely noticeable shuffle, a slight scowl on his stern features.

After a few yards of walking, he came upon a large birch tree and leaned against it he began to wait for the signal from the city. In an effort to keep the Hawnu from finding their stronghold, the elders now enforced a strict policy that anyone who approached the city would only be admitted if they waited for a signal by the birch tree. For the path forked at their landmark, and the signal would direct them in which way to go, in case there were Hawnu scouting parties close to one of the paths. The wait usually took up to an hour, and Arden frequently used this time to relax, but with the gnawing pain in his leg and the imminent information nipping at the fringes of his mind, he couldn't keep still, and found himself irritated at the delay. Finally, after letting out an exasperated sigh, he withdrew a small tome from within his robes and settled down to read, brushing his hair from his eyes. The wait would be long and tedious, but once he reached Evani, he would be able to relieve himself of the burden of his knowledge, content that his elders would know what to do.

--- --- --- --- ---

A single, white-fletched arrow flew through the thick underbrush to dig deep into the wood of a nearby oak. Sullori frowned and slipped back into the thick copse of trees behind her, hands to her weapons. Quickly going through her memory of the area, she could think of no village that would prove hostile to a passing party. She signaled for the others to draw their weapons and crept around a thick birch, peeking around it.

About ten yards from the small group, in the direction they had come from, were two men, both wearing hunting leathers dyed brown and forest green, with sleeveless tunics and snug leggings. Around their arms were bands of fluid gold, glinting brilliantly in the sun. Both had shoulder-length black hair, tanned skin, and striking gold eyes. They looked to be related - perhaps brothers. One was kneeling down and inspecting the ground - most likely looking for signs of passing - and held a curved dagger in one hand. On his left flank was a ruddy wolf, perhaps a familiar of some sort, though the man looked to be more warrior than mage. The other stood, a compact bow of polished black wood in his hands, drawn and ready to fire at any sign of movement. The look on his face was stern and concentrated.

A quick evaluation of the surrounding areas showed that there were no other men with them, though Sullori was far from careless. She motioned for the others to stay their ground and circled around to arrive behind the men. Her hand strayed to her blades as she drew nearer. Not wanting to surprised them and cause injury to anyone, she purposefully made noise as she came up behind them. She could see them stiffen, then motion to each other to act oblivious. She could see laughter shaking their frames - they thought she was an amateur.

She approached them from behind, and didn't even flinch when they spun about and aimed their weapons at her. She merely held out the white-fletched arrow and inclined her head. The two looked at each other, instantly wary, and the man with the bow took the arrow from her outstretched hands. He turned to his companion and began speaking rapidly in a lyrical tongue that Sullori did not know. They seemed to be arguing, yet the man with the bow looked pleased as he turned back to regard her. A barely noticeable gesture caught Sullori's eye and she gasped as the other young man came forward and grabbed her shoulders in a fierce grip. Struggling, she spread her wings in an attempt to escape, but the man jabbed the hilt of his dagger into her ribs and she groaned, doubling over in pain. He gently picked her up, careful not to upset her wings, and returned to his companion's side. Sullori tried to call back to the others, but was driven speechless as three more warriors came forward, Rengin and Trint in tow.

She allowed the strange group of men to take them back to their camp, where they treated them politely, yet never saying a word. Sullori caught herself wondering if they spoke the Common Tongue, then shrugged and began to devour the rough stew of coney and herbs that they gave her. The warriors began to gather there things together and lay about the clearing, while two others kept watch. Whether it was to make sure their captives didn't escape or to watch for danger, Sullori did not know. However, she glanced at the others and nodded, laying down and settling her wings about her. Their captors did not seem hostile, just curious, and Sullori was just as curious about them, and what people they were. She would allow them to guide her and the others to their village, for the moment.


End file.
